The cold steel of the blade kissed her throat as the crowd screamed for blood.
"Lysandra Aureline, former Crown Princess of Evervain," the high priest boomed, his voice echoing through the stone amphitheater. "You stand accused of high treason, consorting with dark forces, and plotting to kill the royal family. Your execution has been decreed by His Majesty."
Lysandra's knees ached where she knelt on the platform, the weight of rusted chains biting into her skin. Rain poured from the heavens, soaking her through, but she refused to shiver. They would not see her break.
She lifted her head, eyes locking onto the golden thrones in the stands above.
Her sister sat there.
Serena. Dressed in royal silks, head held high with the crown that had been meant for Lysandra.
Beside her——he stood.
Prince Kael.
The man who had once whispered forever into her skin now stood with a cold smile carved into his face, a blade she recognized resting at his hip.
Her blade.
A thousand screams and a thousand betrayals cracked her chest, but Lysandra kept her spine straight. Her voice, hoarse but unyielding, echoed through the rain.
"One day, you will choke on your lies. And when you look up to beg the gods for mercy, you will see me."
Serena laughed softly. Kael didn't even flinch.
The high priest gave the order. "Let the traitor be executed."
The headsman raised the axe.
The last thing Lysandra saw was lightning split the sky.
---
She expected death to be quiet. Empty. Black.
But she awoke gasping, her throat burning like it had been scorched.
Mud. Rot. Darkness.
She was lying on damp stone, wrapped in tattered linens. The smell of mildew and something older, darker, filled her nose.
She bolted upright.
Not a cell. A temple. Or what was left of one. Moss covered cracked pillars, and half a goddess statue loomed in the shadows.
"Where…?" Her voice cracked.
A sudden pain split through her skull. Visions poured in—flashes of a girl's life not her own. Starving. Abandoned. Left to die in this temple. Her name was Selene.
And now Lysandra wore her face.
She stumbled to the cracked reflection of a silver basin. Her once flame-gold hair was now dark as obsidian. Her eyes, once royal emerald, glowed faintly with eerie silver light.
What was she now?
Then came the whisper.
"Not dead. Not forgotten. Chosen."
A pressure curled in her chest. Ancient. Hungry.
Something had been sleeping inside this body. And now it stirred.
---
Lysandra—Selene—didn't remember how she made it out of the temple. Only that she ran.
Days passed. Or weeks. Time was strange. She stole cloaks, bread, whatever she could. All while the goddess' voice pressed in her skull. Soft. Familiar. Dangerous.
She learned the empire had flourished since her death. Serena was beloved. Kael was hailed a hero for ending a tyrant princess.
Tyrant.
They rewrote her as a monster.
And yet, in the corners of inns and markets, whispers surfaced.
Of a shadowy girl seen walking through fire.
Of silver eyes that glowed in the dark.
Of temples cracking with unseen storms.
The goddess wasn't sleeping anymore.
---
She returned to the capital with a new face and an old rage.
Her first stop was the Moon Market. The heart of the underground.
And that's where he found her.
Cloaked in black, a man with eyes like dying stars stepped in front of her stall.
Tall. Composed. Inhuman.
"Selene," he said, his voice wrapped in silk and thunder.
She hadn't told anyone that name.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"Do I know you?" she asked.
"Not yet. But you will."
He reached out. Brushed his thumb over her cheek. The touch was brief, but her skin burned. Her vision split. She saw flames, wings—hers. Saw him, kneeling before her in chains.
He smiled then.
"The gods sent you back. But you were mine long before that."
Before she could speak, a sharp whistle cracked through the air.
Guards.
"Traitor sighted! She matches the sketches!"
Her blood ran cold.
He leaned close. Whispered against her ear.
"Run, little goddess. I'll be watching."
He vanished like smoke.
And Lysandra ran.
---
She didn't stop until she reached the edge of the city.
Under the moonlight, she collapsed against a stone wall, gasping.
What was he? A spy? A god? An enemy?
And why had he looked at her like she already belonged to him?
Her fingers curled around the old pendant she wore.
It burned hot.
A memory burst behind her eyes.
A throne of obsidian. A kingdom of fire. Chains breaking. His voice.
"Let the world burn. Just don't leave me again."
Lysandra jolted.
"What is happening to me?"
But before she could gather her thoughts, a figure stepped out of the shadows.
Royal crest. Steel blade.
A soldier.
He raised the sword.
"By royal decree, you are under arrest for impersonating a member of the fallen royal family."
And behind him—Prince Kael.
Older. Colder. But unmistakably him.
He looked directly into her eyes.
And smiled.
"Did you really think we wouldn't notice your return?"
She froze, the pendant burning against her chest. The goddess stirred within her.
Lightning flickered above.
Something cracked in the air—her control, maybe. The ground trembled.
And Kael… took a single step forward.
"Welcome home, Lysandra. Let's finish what we started."
—To Be Continued—